


am I to hate you for making me cower and build these walls again or to love you for letting me breathe when you made them crumble?

by khaleesi_chaerin



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 01:49:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5073307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khaleesi_chaerin/pseuds/khaleesi_chaerin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She killed 300 of your warriors but you didn’t learn - don’t play with fire.</p><p>You’ll only get burnt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	am I to hate you for making me cower and build these walls again or to love you for letting me breathe when you made them crumble?

She killed 300 of your warriors but you didn’t learn - don’t play with fire.

You’ll only get burnt.  
_____

Your hands are drenched in the Mountain Men’s blood. Every crevice, every groove of your palms are lined crimson red. You lick your lips and it’s there too. Red. Tangy. The grip of your hand on the hilt of your sword tightens as you turn your back on the gate. You tilt your chin up - you are the commander after all and god have mercy on anyone who dare oppose you. You close your eyes for the briefest of seconds and you waver a little - the sight of the tear-striken pale cheeks framed by blonde locks flashes like an unwanted lightning in the darkness of your eyes.

 _"Please Commander,”_ you hear her voice again in your ears and god, it sounds so tender, pleading, compassionate even ( _you don’t have to betray this alliance_ ) - everything you knew you weren’t.

Your legs move on their own accord. You find yourself hesitating just for a fraction of a second before placing your right foot down in front of your left ( _maybe, there is another way-_ ). Your legs move on their own accord and you find yourself taking sure strides. Left, right, left, right until there is no chance for a u-turn. Each step weighs down on you: Clarke, Octavia, that boy Jasper, Abby - one by one these names haunt you. You have drenched yourself in the blood of countless others - Anya, Costa, Gustus and you will be drenched in even more. But _jus drein, jus daun_. For each of the lives of the Ski Kru that weigh down on you, the lives of one more Tri Kru that lives eases the burden on your shoulders away. 42 Ski Kru lives will be swallowed by the ground they came crashing onto with the naive innocence that the ground will make them more steady on their feet. What are those compared to the thousands of your children that will live? Victory lies on the back of sacrifice, Anya once told you. Your people come first, ( _before anyone, before yourself_ ), Costia had reminded you before. You take each step with confidence growing like the distance you are putting between you and the Ski Kru. There will be another lifetime for someone like Clarke - not this lifetime, not yet, you convince yourself. Yet her name repeats herself in your mind like the echoes of voices mourning their dead.

_Clarke, Clarke, Clarke._

You swallow. 

( _I do care Clarke. And I am so, so, sorry._ )

You hear a gut-wrenching cry pierce through the night amidst the thunderous steps of your people who have no need for soft steps with victory on their backs. You recognize it but no one else does because it is the same scream that has been haunting your dreams since you let go of the siege of your heart and touched her lips with yours. It haunts you because your are so very afraid that the next time you will look into those tender, gentle eyes will be when they are empty and lifeless and in a head dumped unceremoniously into a box.

Love is weakness - _and you are so, so weak._

____

Your hear that she destroyed the Mountain. Not just their vile leader - every single one of their kin has stained the Earth with their blood. It shakes you for a second, relief starts to ease in ( _she is alive_ ) but you pause. Clear your mind. The siege of your heart has resumed and the guards know better than to leave their posts. Love is weakness but you are not weak anymore. Not again, and definitely not in this lifetime. That is what you tell yourself like a prayer every night before you slip into slumber.

Some days it is her name that plays on your lips instead.

( _Clarke. Clarke. Clarke._ )

It is a distraction you tell yourself then. You will not let yourself be weak, but you can afford to relinquish your responsibilities as a commander - only for a second and no more. For that second you are just Alexandria, 21 and so very much in love and alone.

The next time you look into her eyes they are empty and lifeless. You feel your blood freeze. Did your dream come true? Did the Ice Queen...

_No no no._

The Ice Queen did not take Clarke away. _You did._

___

Her eyes are in a body, so obviously worn out and tired yet defiant, straight and confident. She has come to take herself back. She pulled the lever, killed all the Mountain Men and maybe a little bit of herself. Her pistol is jammed to the side of your torso. If she pulls the trigger, you will be dead too.

That is not how you had envision her return (if she ever did, you had thought). You are Heda, Commander - ruthless, smart and a brilliant tactician but you have learnt that the rules of love are vastly different. The field of war is a territory dissimilar to love. Your tactics and smartness are ill-matched here. You are helpless. 

Still, you swallow and speak, confident, unwavering.

 _“My people will always come first,”_ you say, and it comes our crisp and distant, practiced rhetoric you have heard yourself utter countless of times to convince others and sometimes, _you_ falter, and are convincing yourself. You say this to Clarke because it was what it was. You are the Commander, your people will _always_ come first.

You did not say that you are just Lexa too. You will not apologise for betraying the alliance - but you might apologise for betraying her heart.

___

It is only after you lead her to your room, because you can’t exactly figure out what it is that she wants now that the war is over (and she is alone and unarmed other than her pistol which you now suspect is useless with no bullets), that she reacts, pushing and shoving you till the back of your knees touch your makeshift bed.

She pushes you down and you comply - you feel like this is what she needs. You let her take what she wants. Maybe it was because you felt a little guilty for turning her like this. Maybe. You do not dwell on the thought for too long.

She grabs your wrists and places them above you, trying to assert some semblance of control. She may have crumbled the Mountain but that is nothing to the years of warrior training you have had. Immediately you know that her grip is weak and you know that she knows that you can easily escape if you want to.

You don’t.

No one has tried to force authority on you like this. And maybe, you are so very tired of being in control all the time that you allow it. It feels different, maybe comforting for a second, to have someone else lead, have someone else make the decisions for once.

She leans in and your breath hitches. You now roughly have an idea where this might lead to and you can feel the walls around your heart slowly crumble and no matter how much you want them to go up back, you do not deny that you want this too. She skirms her lips on your jaw, moves up and brushes against your earlobe. She stills and you can hear the thud of her heart.

_“I hate you Lexa. For leaving me there. I had to kill every person in that Mountain - even the innocent ones, the ones who had helped us. Just so my people could live! I hate you for making me make that choice.”_

Her diction might be brutal, ruthless and sharp but her tone smoothes the edges. Her words do not come off ice-cold. They do not cut you like they should. Her words are just that - words. Facts of a situation you were both familiar with.

 _“I see them everywhere, some of them were just kids. God Lexa I just-“_ her voice starts to crumble and, _“I was so angry after you left. But I understand now, I understand why you did what you did because I did the same. But no one else does and I just need- I just need someone who understands and you do and no matter how much I hate you I just need-“._

You cut her off. Break the grip she has on your wrist, cradle her head in your hand, presses her body against yours and flips the both of you around. You hover over her and place gentle palms on her tender cheeks.

You know what she needs - you need it too.

(You crash your lips down to hers, drown in the taste of her like she is the ocean and god, _you don’t ever want to come back up to the surface again._ )

**Author's Note:**

> I think we kind of mostly paint Lexa as this hardened, stoic and ruthless leader + warrior and it's easy to forget that she's still so so young and is carrying so much weight on her shoulders. And as much as she tries to be all "love is weakness" she is obviously pretty much in love with Clarke and I may kind of just want her to give in for once?
> 
> /runs.
> 
> [was actually going to say that this is my first time posting and all that but i'm not quite sure how to put it so just.. hmu @ khaleesi-chaerin on tumblr if you want]


End file.
